


Now We're Making Some Progress

by murphystarr



Series: The Desperate Type [17]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Dave The Tattoo Artist, Gen, How the Fuck Do I Tag, Tattoos, The Desperate Type, Unbeta'd, alternate title: murphy siblings heal and get matching tattoos, and for two usages of the word fuck, but they're off doing internships and being badasses, help me, idk man I have no idea what i'm doing, if you look closely you can see tree bros and galaxy gals, ish, rated T for tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphystarr/pseuds/murphystarr
Summary: She knew that each one of Connor’s tattoos had some sort of meaning behind them, he didn’t want something etched on his body forever unless he wanted to look back on it with regret. He had explained to Zoe the reasons behind his tattoos, so she knew how important each and every one meant to him. He could look down at them and smile, knowing that he came this far and he was thriving, that he could proudly show them off without fear… he wasn’t ashamed at all.And Zoe wanted that. She wanted a tattoo that she could wear with pride, but she had no idea what tattoo would bring her that level of fulfillment that she saw in her brother’s. She had been looking on-and-off for a year, but nothing had stood out to her.Until she saw it a few nights ago.And it was, well, it was perfect.





	Now We're Making Some Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chchchchcherrybomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/gifts).



> I'm a huge fan of The Desperate Type Series by chchchchcherrybomb, and I make up little headcanons inside their AU and keep them to myself. But this one slid out and now it's gonna be on the internet forever.
> 
> This takes place during the summer before Connor's senior year of college and Zoe's junior year of college.
> 
> Dave the tattoo artist and The Desperate Type series belong to chchchchcherrybomb. My soul currently belongs to Dear Evan Hansen, that also belongs to Pasek and Paul. I own a dog and a Prius. That's it.
> 
> Also, I've never gotten a tattoo before so if I mess something up I'm so sorry google can only provide so much.

Zoe didn’t know what was more rare: the fact that Connor took time away from his internship at the Smithsonian to come down for the 4th of July weekend, or that he was up before 9 am on a _Saturday_.

She ought to go buy a lottery ticket. That’s what Alana told her to do when she texted her when Connor had come down the stairs and blindly shuffled over to the coffeemaker. His hair was up in his usual sloppy bun and he was wearing his glasses. Zoe managed to sneak a picture and send it to Evan after she dropped some bread in the toaster.

He was a slave to his sleep schedule, that’s what Connor told Zoe when she handed him the toast and asked if he wanted to go back to bed and try for another hour. It didn’t matter what time he went to sleep, his body would wake him up at 8:15, somewhat prepared to report for duty at 9:45 at the National Museum of American History. Connor liked his internship; don’t take it the wrong way; he loved assisting with research at the library and leading tours at the museum, but the early mornings and occasional long nights were starting to run him down a little. He did drive down every other weekend to visit Evan, who was doing great at his own internship, by the way, and Zoe knew that Connor had a small circle of friends from the museum that he would hang out and explore D.C. with. Connor was keeping busy, he had a stable job and friends, he made time to talk to his boyfriend every day, but what he really needed someone to remind him to slow down and take a break. That’s why their mom invited him back home for the long weekend. To sleep in his own bed for a change and hopefully get some much needed rest.

Connor was supposed to drive back to D.C. tomorrow night, and he admitted that he probably would have gotten more sleep if he stayed back at his apartment.

Still, Zoe had to admit, it was nice to have her brother back home for a while. He surprised her the other day at her job at the music day camp and took her out to lunch at their favorite diner, stopping by their favorite donut shop on the way back. He helped her with chores around the house, and they even bought cookie dough with the full intention to bake cookies but ended up eating it raw while marathoning Cake Wars. He let Zoe braid his hair, they took dumb selfies together, and they even managed to sneak in a few Nerf Gun battles.

It was nice.

It was especially nice that Zoe could feel this comfortable around her brother again.

That she could approach him without bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to pivot and run away at any given moment. That she didn’t have to worry that he might fall into one of his destructive episodes, throwing everything he could get his hands on across the room. That the smile on his face was actually genuine, and he meant it when he said that he was proud of her.

They had gone through a lot to make it this far.

But it was worth it.

An ugly slurping noise broke Zoe away from her thoughts, and looked up from her phone to see that Connor had sat down across from her at the breakfast table with his toast and the morning paper, downing the first half of his coffee in four seconds flat. Zoe made a disgusted face and took another bite of Golden Grahams, eyes returning back to her phone and scrolling through her pictures. They were the only ones in the house; their parents were out at a company picnic for their dad’s firm. They had invited the kids to come along with them when Connor first came down, but after hearing about his erratic sleep schedule they gave the kids a rare pass and promised to be home by three. Apparently everyone at the firm went hard on mimosas.

Zoe continued to aimlessly scroll through her pictures, occasionally coming across screenshots from the Pintrest app. Some were pictures of clothes and recipes that she wanted to try, but most of them were tattoos.

You heard that right. Perfect little Zoe Murphy was looking at tattoos. She had been looking at them for a while, for the past year or so actually. A lot of her friends back at college had tattoos; one of her suitemates from her freshman and sophomore years had a two-headed snake skeleton that covered up her scars from her spinal fusion surgeries, and one of her close friends had mermaid scales on their hip. 

And, of course, there was her brother. Connor was definitely no stranger to tattoos. She could clearly make out a few of them from the t-shirt he was wearing: silhouettes of birds taking flight on his left forearm, words on the inside of his left forearm, just below the crook of his arm, that read “ _i will r;se again_ ”, the infamous pine tree on the inside of his right arm, and she could barely see the geometric lotus flower that was placed above his right elbow, but she could make out some of the blue and green watercolor that surrounded the flower.

She knew that each one of Connor’s tattoos had some sort of meaning behind them, he didn’t want something etched on his body forever unless he wanted to look back on it with regret. He had explained to Zoe the reasons behind his tattoos, so she knew how important each and every one meant to him. He could look down at them and smile, knowing that he came this far and he was thriving, that he could proudly show them off without fear… he wasn’t ashamed at all.

And Zoe wanted that. She wanted a tattoo that she could wear with pride, but she had no idea what tattoo would bring her that level of fulfillment that she saw in her brother’s. She had been looking on-and-off for a year, but nothing had stood out to her.

Until she saw _it_ a few nights ago.

And it was, well, it was perfect.

It was everything she had been hoping for, and then some.

She knew that if she got it right then and there, she could look down at it and smile, not an ounce of regret in her system.

Which, by the way… why not?

“Got any plans for the day?” Connor asked.

Zoe looked up at Connor, who looked a bit more awake, eyes a bit less bleary and more focused on the paper. Why, Zoe cursed in her mind, did Connor always know when she was up to something?

“Kinda…” Zoe replied.

“Like what?”

Zoe took a breath. “I-uh… I kinda want to get a tattoo.”

Connor finally looked up from the paper, coffee mug halfway to his lips.

“A tattoo?” Connor asked, deadpan. He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah."

“And can I ask what brought this on? Because if it’s because of me, you’re grounded." 

Zoe let out a soft huff. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’? Two minutes?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. She knew the story behind Connor’s first tattoo from two years ago, how Evan showed Connor his favorite tree in Elliston State Park, and Connor made an appointment with a tattoo artist thirty minutes later.

“Hypocrite.”

Connor rolled his eyes back. He put down his coffee mug after taking a long sip. “I’m serious, Zoe. Tattoos are forever. It has to be something that you’re willing to put on your body for the rest of your life.”

“I _am_ serious, Connor. And I already know what I want.”

“As long as it’s not ‘ _live, laugh, love_ ’ on your shoulder or anything dumb like that.”

“Says the guy with a feather tattoo.”

Connor just rolled up his right sleeve to reveal two small tattoos on his bicep that were hidden by his shirt: a black feather, and just an inch away, the elephant from _The Little Prince_. “It’s from The Beatles, Zo. Give me a break.”

“Connor,” Zoe felt herself steadily grow more and more annoyed at her brother, “I’m serious about this. Can you at least _try_ and be supportive?”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” She watched as he pulled out his phone from his pajama’s pockets. “Dave might be there already. Let me see if I can get you an appointment.”

Wait… was Connor actually doing this? _Holy shit_ this was really happening. Zoe felt a smile grow across her face and excitement bubble in her stomach. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Why not? You want to get a tattoo today, right?”

“Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

She watched as Connor swiped his phone open and scrolled through his contacts. He looked up at Zoe as he put the phone to his ear, looking directly into her eyes, as if he was searching for something. Zoe’s expression remained unchanged; in fact, she leaned forward, hoping to catch a bit of the conversation that would soon take place. Connor let out a sigh.

“Jesus, you’re really serious about this.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t even calling him.” He pulled his phone away from his head, showing her that his phone was still on the contacts page. “I was waiting to see when you were gonna chicken out."

The bubbles popped. Zoe felt her face scrunch up and anger flooded in her chest. “Connor! What the hell?”

“What?” Connor said, defensively, putting his phone down. “Excuse me for being a bit skeptical! This isn’t something I’ve ever expected from you! I mean… why do you want a tattoo so bad all of a sudden?”

Zoe wanted to lay it all out for him right then and there. How she wanted to carry something with her that reminded her of a special time in her life. How she saw how Connor would light up whenever someone asked about his tattoos and how he wasn’t ashamed when he would go into detail about the meaning behind it. How she wanted to connect with her brother on a level that only a tattoo could accomplish.

But she pushed her words down, reached for her phone and began scrolling through her pictures.

“Can you at least look at it before you decide to judge me?”

“Fine. Hand it over.”

Zoe slid her phone across the table with a little more force than necessary, but Connor caught it before it had the chance to fall and smack screen first on the tile. He lifted her phone up, and his expression immediately softened upon seeing the photo.

“Huh.”

“Let me guess,” Zoe said, flippantly, “it’s stupid, right?”

“No, no, no. Zoe, I-I really like this.”

Zoe visibly relaxed at Connor’s honest comment. That was… totally what she wasn’t expecting at all. Especially given their exchange over the past few minutes.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can really see you getting something like this. It’s small, too. Just right for a first tattoo.” He leaned across the table, smiling, handing Zoe her phone back. “You still want to get in today?”

Zoe grinned, clutching her phone to her chest. “If your friend can see me.”

Connor laughed. “Dave loves me. He’ll probably see you during his lunch break if I bring him food.”

He picked up his phone again and was quick to unlock it.

“Connor, wait a minute.”

He looked up, playfully smirking. “Oh, what now? You flaking now?”

“N-No. I was actually wondering…” Zoe took a breath. She had practiced this in her head, why was she so nervous now? Connor just looked on, waiting. “Maybe… if you wanted to, you could get one too?”

“What?”

Zoe felt her face grow hot. She put up a hand and looked down at her now soggy cereal. “No, no, no never mind it was a stupid idea you probably don’t want that–”

“Zo, calm down.” Zoe peeked up at Connor, who was practically beaming. His mouth was curled up into a rare toothy smile. “I think it’s a great idea. I’m really honored, actually." 

She busted out in a grin, hand reflexively going to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Connor slapped an open palm against the table, as if he had the power to make the decision final. “Let’s do it. Let’s get matching tattoos.”

Zoe couldn’t help herself. She got out of her chair, circled around the table and leaned down to hug Connor around his shoulders. He let out a little chuckle before standing up and wrapping his arms around Zoe for a proper hug. She let herself fall into the embrace, pressing her forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to ground herself, fearing that the lump in her throat would burst and she would start crying. 

It’s just.

She and her brother were going to get matching tattoos.

If someone told the Zoe of six years ago that this would happen, she would have laughed in their face and ask if they were as crazy as Connor was.

They had made a lot of progress. It was only natural to get a little emotional.

Connor gave her a little squeeze before letting go, holding her out at an arms length and patted her on the shoulder.

“Go get ready. I’ll call Dave.”

Zoe took their dishes to the dishwasher first before going upstairs; watching from the corner of her eye as Connor put the phone to his ear, making a beeline over to the coffeemaker.

“Dave, it’s Connor. …Yeah, I’m doing good, D.C. is pretty cool. Hey, listen, I have a favor to ask…”

* * *

“I never thought I’d see the day when Connor Murphy would get a four-leaf clover tattooed on him. You’ve gone too soft.”

“Hey, Dave?"

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Zoe watched on as Dave shaved a part of Connor’s right wrist while he lied back in a chair, as they playfully bickered back and forth, like they were brothers. Dave was nice; he took the time to shake Zoe’s hand after he let Connor go from a bro hug. He was a big, stocky guy in a blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had a bushy beard to complete the lumberjack look. But Zoe thought he looked more like a giant teddy bear. They had a nice introduction before their consultation, while Dave ate, “as requested”, Connor had said, handing Dave an oversized brown paper bag, “a Chipotle burrito the size of your head.”

Connor told Zoe that the two had met in rehab the summer before Connor’s senior year, and they were both nearly kicked out.

“For what?” Zoe asked. She knew that Connor was awful during his time at rehab; the center was calling their mom every couple of days to report in, but she never found out what exactly Connor did to warrant a phone call home.

Dave and Connor shared a look, before they giving each other a shit-eating grin. “What happens in rehab stays in rehab,” they said simultaneously.

Dave was covered in tattoos. Both arms were covered with them, with bits of untouched skin peeking out at the most random places. He took time to show Zoe some of his favorites, giving an explanation for each one.

“I got his moon over here when I was one year sober. This owl is for my older brother; he died when I was fifteen. I got this for my fiancée, she really loves avocados. I really like it, but she hates it, so I got this carnation over here for her, too. This is my daughter’s footprint from when she was born three months ago. Oh! That’s right, you need to see this, it’s fucking adorable.”

Dave pulled out his phone despite Connor’s protests, and showed Zoe a picture of Connor holding a little pink bundle, looking down at the sleeping baby in his arms and smiling gently. Zoe asked Dave to send the picture to her after she finished squealing. Connor looked away as his cheeks flushed. Dave just slapped Connor on the back, laughing heartily. 

Zoe continued to watch the process. Dave wiped Connor’s freshly shaved wrist with an alcohol pad, then carefully laid the stencil on his skin. She smiled to herself. Zoe told Dave the reason why she chose a four-leaf clover for her and Connor after Dave finished his burrito: they were both immensely proud of their Irish heritage. They were both pretty Irish, they knew exactly how Irish they were after they sent of their spit to Ancestry when the whole family got DNA kits for Christmas. Connor was 68%. Zoe was 71%.

Heritage aside, the actual four-leaf clover meant a lot to Zoe. She told Dave how she and Connor used to look for four-leaf clovers when they were kids, and how Connor would give his to Zoe if she couldn’t find any. She even had a necklace with a four-leaf clover charm that Connor gave to her when she was a junior in high school. She never took it off, giving the chain a little tug and pulling it from under her shirt to prove a point. Dave said it was going to be a great tattoo. Connor wrapped an arm over Zoe’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze.

“Hey, Zo." 

Zoe looked up, seeing Dave smear a layer of Vaseline over the stencil. Connor gave a little wave, grabbing her attention.

“You wanna watch? Or would you rather look away?”

“No. I’ll watch.”

Connor gave her a little grin. “It’s not that big a deal. It won’t take that long.”

“Yeah,” Dave chimed in. “This’ll probably take me three minutes.” He dipped the tip of the needle in a pot of black ink, and then stretched Connor’s skin taught with his gloved finger. “Ready, dude?”

“Go for it.”

If it hurt at all, Zoe couldn’t tell. Connor did slightly squint when the needle first met his skin at first, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it came. He mostly watched Dave work, occasionally looking up at Zoe and giving her a small smile. Zoe was absolutely mesmerized, feeling her skin buzz as she watched as Dave dragged the needle across Connor’s skin, leaving behind a thin trail of black ink. It was almost like magic; just seconds ago, Connor’s wrist was bare, but now a tattoo was going to be there, forever. And Zoe still couldn’t believe that _she_ had been the one to pick out the tattoo. Go Zoe. Way to go.

True to his word, three minutes later Dave was finished. He gave the now finished tattoo another wipe, then clapped Connor against his bicep.

“You’re done, Princess.”

Connor playfully punched Dave in the side of his head, and they shared a laugh. Connor sat up, and held out his wrist to show Zoe the finished product.

“What do you think?”

Zoe let out a gasp. There it was. A thin outline of a four-leaf clover now occupied the space on the right side of Connor’s right wrist. It was even cooler up close, even better than she imagined it would be. It was simple, but beautiful all on its own. She could go on and on about how perfect it was. So she just settled with,

“It’s real,” Zoe whispered. “Oh, wow, that’s so cool.”

Connor chuckled. “Isn’t it? Dave just needs a few minutes to clean up. Then it’ll be your turn.”

She nodded, grinning. “Awesome.”

“You pumped? Feeling good?”

“Yeah. I’m really excited.” 

“You’ll do great. You saw me get it, it’s not so bad.”

Zoe took a few pictures of Connor and his new tattoo to send to Evan and to post on his social medias before they heard Dave announce that he was ready for Zoe.

And then.

Zoe felt a brick of lead settle down in her stomach. What the heck, stomach? She was totally fine up until that moment. She wasn’t nervous at all. Connor asked on the way to the parlor if she was scared at all, but she said that she was really looking forward to it, and she meant it. She felt loose and ready to go. No hesitations or second thoughts occupied her mind at all. 

Why did her body see that now was perfect opportunity for her to start to freak out?

She didn’t even realize that she and Connor had switched places. Zoe had taken Connor’s previous spot in the chair, leaning back as Dave shaved a part of her left wrist. He wiped it down with an alcohol pad and pretty soon the stencil was on. 

“Does that look good?”

Zoe nodded. A little too fast. “Y-Yeah. That’s good. Looks great. Yep. Perfect. I love it.”

Dave looked up at Connor, concern etched on his face. “Is this normal for her?”

“No.” Connor leaned over and placed a gentle hand on her right forearm. She swung her head to the side. “Zoe, you alright? Do you need a minute?”

“No,” Zoe lied, shaking her head. She took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

Connor searched Zoe’s eyes again, like at the breakfast table that morning when he pretended to call Dave, looking for any sign of her flaking. But Zoe kept her face stony and still. She made it this far, there was no way in hell she was going to chicken out and make a fool of herself. Connor hesitated before giving her a slight nod. “Okay then. If you say so.”

Dave dipped the needle in ink and stretched her skin out. She prayed that Dave couldn’t feel the way her pulse spiked up just then through his gloves.

“You ready, Zoe?”

She just nodded, a bit tentatively.

The machine buzzed to life and Dave leaned in. Zoe didn’t give him any warning. She let out an unholy shriek as Dave was _this_ close to making contact with her skin, immediately drawing her wrist to her chest and guarding it with her life. She let in a shaky breath, screwing her eyes tight to keep the tears from dripping out. Her lungs felt tight and her heart was caught in a nasty vice grip. She felt herself curl into a ball, in a feeble attempt to hide from the buzzing and voices that surrounded her, but the loud echo of her heartbeat in her eardrums was already doing a good job at drowning the outside noises away.

“Zoe? Zoe? Zoe, are you okay? Zoe, listen to me, you’re okay. Dave, Dave. Turn the machine off turn the goddamn machine off! Zoe, hey, Zoe, you’re okay. Dave turned the machine off. You’re okay. I’m here.”

She tried to focus on her heartbeat, her breathing, but it only added on to the weight of the situation and the first-hand embarrassment that she felt. She let out a choked gasp, her body’s way of reminding her that she may be a coward, but hey, everyone has to breathe sometimes. Zoe drew in some shaky breaths as she felt a dip in the chair in front of her. She carefully screwed an eye open, already knowing that Connor would be there, scared out of his wits, hands ghosting at her arms.

“Zo, are you okay?”

It was a dumb question; they both knew it. And of course she wasn’t; they obviously both knew it. She let out a pathetic whine and shut her eye again, shivering as a few hot tears slipped and fell down her cheeks.

“Zoe, are you okay with touch? Can I take your hand?”

She wordlessly stuck out the trembling hand that didn’t have the stencil on it, and Connor gently took it between his. He rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, occasionally reminding Zoe to breathe, and when that wasn’t good enough, he overexaggerated his own breathing so it would be easy for Zoe to follow along and get her to calm down.

This was completely mortifying. Why was she so scared about something like this? Connor didn’t freak out like this when he got his first tattoo, Evan told her all about it. She was being a total wimp.

“These things can be scary, Zoe. People react differently to different things. I’m sorry, I should have prepared you more. You’ve never gotten a tattoo before, it’s perfectly normal to be a little afraid.”

It didn’t matter, this was a terrible idea anyways. Connor was right, she wasn’t ready for a tattoo. Why did she drag him into this? Connor must think she’s being dramatic. Dave must think she’s annoying. She’s wasting his time. She’s wasting Connor’s time. And he went first, so now he’s got a dumb tattoo that he didn’t even want. She’s stupid. So, so stupid. He’s never gonna let her live this down. He probably hates it, he’s already thinking of some way to cover it up-

“Zoe, stop that. You’re not wasting anyone’s time. And don’t think for a second that you’re being an inconvenience, okay? And I _love_ this tattoo. I mean it, I really do. When I’m back at D.C. and I look at it, I’m gonna think of you. It’s perfect, and I love everything about it. You couldn’t have picked anything better.

“And Dave doesn’t think of you like that. He’s really worried about you. Oh, perfect, thanks. Look, Dave brought you some water.” 

Zoe slowly craned her head up from her chest, peeking through the strands of hair that were draped over her face to see Dave holding out a little bottle of water out for her. She ripped the hand that Connor was holding from his grasp to wipe at her eyes, suddenly embarrassed that Dave had caught her crying. Freaking out in the chair was one thing, tears were a whole other ballpark.

She made no move to grab the water, so Connor took it from Dave and twisted it open, and then held it out to Zoe. She took it, taking gentle sips at Connor’s request. Connor made himself more comfortable on the chair, folding his legs underneath him until he resembled something like a pretzel. Zoe snorted. When Connor’s growth spurts hit him all at once in the eighth grade, Zoe started to say that he had grasshopper’s legs, and mom called him beanpole. He was lanky and awkward for a while, but he grew into it, but sitting comfortably while cross-legged was still a challenge for him. And airplanes. Those were the worst.

Dave must have noticed Zoe’s little grin. “Feeling better, Zoe?”

She gave a little nod before taking another sip. “I’m sorry for all of that,” she whispered. Zoe couldn’t look Dave in the eye, not quite yet. Connor reached over and gave her knee a gentle squeeze.

“You’re fine,” Dave said. “This happens a lot more than you’d think. At least you didn’t punch me in the face like some of–”

Connor must have shot Dave a look, because he stopped talking, letting Zoe finish her water in silence. “What do you want to do now?” Connor asked, once he took the empty bottle from Zoe and handed it off to Dave. “Do you want to go back home?”

Zoe swung her head up, meeting Connor’s eyes and giving him an incredulous look.

“What?”

“We can come back and try another day. We don’t have to do this now.”

“But I…” Zoe shook her head. “I came this far…" 

“Zoe. If you’re not ready now, that’s okay. You took a big step today, and I’m ridiculously proud of you. Really, Zo, It’s all up to you.”

She knew that Connor would respect whatever decision she made. Tattoo or no tattoo, he wasn’t going to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Like he said, it was up to her. Connor made his choice, and Zoe made hers. She gave him a nod.

“Let’s do this.”

Connor seemed shocked at her answer. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything–”

“Connor, I’m ready. I can do this.”

“Are you sure?" 

Zoe smiled. “Dead sure.”

Connor smiled back, and gave Dave a nod. Zoe leaned back in the chair at Dave’s request; the stencil had smeared and had to be reapplied. Pretty soon they were ready to start. Vaseline was smeared over the freshly applied stencil and Dave was dipping the needle in a pot of ink again.

“Ready for round two?”

“One second.” Zoe looked over at Connor, who had since returned to his previous spot at Zoe’s right side. “Uhm…”

“What’s up?”

“This is gonna sound really stupid, but,” she held out her hand to her brother. “Can you…?”

Connor smiled, taking Zoe’s hand in his. She noticed that she wasn’t trembling anymore. Baby steps. “Of course.” 

Zoe took a deep breath before turning back to Dave. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

“I’m gonna barf,” Dave said, playfully rolling his eyes.

The siblings just shared a laugh.

* * *

If she could describe the feeling of getting a tattoo in the simplest of terms, a thousand little beestings was the closest that she could get. She squeezed Connor’s hand when it got a little too much, but he never complained once. He lightly squeezed back, and covered her hand with his.

On the drive back home, Zoe’s phone pinged to say that was now being followed by a @DavidSchwartzTattoo on Instagram and he had tagged her in a photo. She opened the app to find that Dave had posted a candid photo of Zoe and Connor looking down at their matching tattoos, while Zoe was grinning like an idiot and Connor was just smirking at Zoe’s reaction.

The caption read: “ _Always an honor to tattoo @con.nor, but it was a real privilege to give his sister, @GuitarHeroine1999, her first tattoo. Welcome to the club, kid. Come by anytime._ ”

Zoe immediately liked the picture and followed Dave back.

She had a feeling that she’d be back to see Dave sometime in the near distant future.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from “The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage” by Panic! At The Disco. 
> 
> I have a lot of feelings about Dave so have some of my headcanons for him below. If you look closely they coincide with The Desperate Type series:
> 
> \- Connor met Dave at rehab where Dave was being treated for alcoholism and Connor was sent for his addiction to oxy. Dave immediately took Connor under his wing; he didn’t see an angry drug addict, he saw a scared, lost kid who needed some guidance. He pretty much claimed Connor the minute they met, and was like “yep. This one’s mine.”  
> \- They kept in contact after rehab, mainly Dave checking in every week or so to see how Connor was doing.  
> \- Dave sees Connor as a younger brother, and Connor sees Dave as the cool older brother he kinda always wanted.  
> \- He’s done all of Connor’s tattoos, and feels pretty fucking honored to have done so  
> \- Dave has a three month old daughter named Finley Rose. When he texted a picture to Connor a few hours after she was born, he was there three hours later, with a stuffed lamb he picked up on the way for Finley.  
> \- Connor won’t admit it but he fucking loves that baby.  
> \- Like  
> \- He asks Dave to text him pictures / updates about Finley all the time.  
> \- Aside from being a successful tattoo artist, Dave’s also a competitive powerlifter. He actually met his now fiancé, Alethia, at the gym they both train at. They’ve been together for three years and are getting married once Alethia loses “all the baby weight. I wanna look hot.”  
> \- “She also wants to drink at the wedding.”  
> \- “Who can blame me?”  
> \- And Connor is definitely one of the groomsmen.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed my first, and hopefully not last, fanfic for Dear Evan Hansen! 
> 
> I’m on the timblr tumblr @murphystarr come yell with me about other tattoos Connor and Zoe would get!


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